


i choose you, horsaponi

by oncewewerezombies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternian Empire, Bickering, Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, beautification, hemocaste references, hemocaste slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 06:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies
Summary: Equius ==> Play a high stakes game against your kismesisEquius ==> Lose





	i choose you, horsaponi

" _No._ "

"I feel like, I should remind you that _you're_ the one who lost the uh, bet." Tavros can't help himself from sounding pleased and smug; it's not as though he never gets one over on Equius. It's just that this. _This_. Is going to be _so good_.

He's not going to get to forget that Tavros _won_ for a very long time.

"How can I actually be sure you haven't cheated?"

"The way you're carrying on, um, it makes me feel like you don't intend to make good on your word," Tavros says as firmly as he can manage to Equius' sour accusation, drawing his shoulders back a little and looking up at the other troll. Equius looks like a disapproving brick wall, arms folded across his chest, staring at him through those square shades that block everything out. Obviously trying to subtly intimidate him into feeling small, and unworthy, but after he broke things off with Vriska, he'd sworn that no one would ever make him feel like that again. Equius liked to try. Something about the fact that he had self esteem and an ability to say no to orders while still being pretty much the lowest of the hemospectrum seemed to really get to him. 

The hypocrisy of only having quadrants pretty much olive and below while still being hideously hemocastist really got to Tavros. And the fact that the other could be something close to a nice guy if he just forgot about his hemoheirarchy programming was just the really frustrating cherry on top of his seething pitch mound of sweet frozen lactose-based dessert covered with sugar-laced grubsyrup. They both disagreed on what 'better' was, but he knew that struggling against Equius had made him a stronger troll, more able to say his mind and less likely to be intimidated. When your kismesis could crush your skull with one hand, it was hard not to see every other highblood threat display after that with a certain amount of 'so what, bro?'. 

"Isn't that, you know, beneath you? As a blueblood?" 

Tavros shrugged as though he didn't care how Equius answered that slight on his honour, and kept staring at his kismesis as the other troll seemed to become even more stone-like right in front of him, except for the sweat starting to trace its way past the arms of his shades, down his temples and the sides of his angular face. Oh, he _really_ hadn't liked that. But he can see Equius' capitulation in one magic moment as the thick shoulders square up, solid jaw gone rigid and he really thinks he's just heard one of his back molars crack under the pressure. Amazing. This was _amazing_. He'd never seen Equius obviously lose his temper like this, when they weren't even touching.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry, I asked Kanaya exactly, uh, how to do this..." And checked out a few alternianet sites on beauty and hair. He'd read them over and over, just to make sure that when it counted he could look confident and act like he knew what he was doing. His auto-ads had gotten really weird over the last cycle, but it is _definitely_ going to be worth it. Tavros straightens his shoulders back and makes sure he looks as confident as possible. Sometimes the look is worth just as much as the reality. Equius looks dubious but not like he's going to fight him on this anymore. "It's not like it's going to be forever. It'll wash out." Probably. Possibly. If it didn't, he was sure that Equius would find a way to make him pay for it. A healthy sense of retribution and competition was good for a kismesissitude, so none of this is really a bad idea at all. He's pretty sure, at least, that it's not a bad idea. "We'll do this in your ablutionblock, alright? Easier to clean up any um, mess."

" _Fine_."

It wasn't much of an agreement, but it was more than good enough for Tavros. 

That grumbling snarl means that he can lead him to his ablutionblock, and sit him down on the chair he had set up there while Equius had been caught up in his workblock. Hey. He knew the value of forward planning. It was what had caught him out so many times before, not realising the traps that other people were setting out for him. Now he sets his own. Equius sits forward, shoulders hunched with his elbows on his knees as Tavros double-checks the instructions on the bleach, and the hair dye. Tavros put gloves on his hands and started to mix the bleach as the first step. It's a weird light blue - he would have thought it would have been all white. 

"Now, uh. This might burn a little, but it's not meant to _really_ hurt, so let me know if it does," he tells his kismesis and parts out a large block of the hair at the front of Equius' head as the blueblood just grunts at him in acknowledgement. Taking the thin square of reflective metal baking sheet he'd prepared earlier, he kind of placed the lock on it and then started to brush bleach up the long black strands. "You know, no one said you _had_ to play Fiduspawn with me." There is only glowering silence and Tavros continues, because part of being in a kismesissitude is challenging each other. Needling the other to be a better troll. It's just so frustrating sometimes, being Equius' kismesis. He really is a pompous ass. 

Sure does have a nice one, though - it's a redeeming feature on a troll otherwise almost completely lacking in them.

No matter what else you can say about Equius, he definitely has a nice body.

The scent of the bleach is acrid and stings his nose, but he keeps going. Brushing it over and trying to remember just how the beauterrorist had done it on the video he'd watched. The several videos he'd watched. He finally feels like there's enough of the blue-white bleach caked on this long, thick part of Equius' hair and he folds the foil up clumsily into a square of shiny silvery metal. Tight and close to Equius' scalp as the blueblood continues to almost visibly seethe, while staying still so Tavros can do this. Then Tavros takes another lock and starts painting it with bleach as well. The point of this is to make it really _obvious_ , and he isn't one hundred per cent sure what kind of colour the copper is going to come out.Three, four, five streaks. And then to sit and wait while while the bleach processes, turns his hair from trollish black to something like lusus white.

Tavros is on edge the entire time. Trying to seem as though he isn't. What if he's inflicting chemical burns onto the scalp of his asshole of a kismesis, but Equius is trying to seem brave? Some stupid kind of don't admit pain to the lowblood _hoofbeast shit_ , he could definitely see Equius doing that. Because he was a hemocastist idiot, with a commitment to a stiff upper lip that was frankly, as far as Tavros was concerned, almost suicidal. Sometimes pride wasn't worth what you paid for it. He'd learned that. He wasn't sure if Equius really _had_ , and he didn't want to be the one to teach him via chemical burns to his scalp.

Equius sits there, suffers, as Tavros washes the bleach out gently over the sink, the back of his head propped up on the lip. Hair washing is really more of a pale behaviour, but Tavros has never really had a problem with quadrant blurring. Besides. Equius is all tight muscles and aggressive pheromone production, sitting there. That makes it feel like it's not a vacillating behaviour at all. It's actually kind of hard to ignore? Whether it's the sweat that makes it all more _noticeable_ , or whether it's a highblood thing, or Equius just has a really STRONG smell - he's never been exactly able to pin it down. Just takes it as a fact. His face may be deadpan, but he almost screams his feelings in the way he smells.

It's kind of cute.

In a really hateable way.

In a 'makes him really want to jump his hemocastist, stupidly tall and well-fed highblood ass' way.

At least Tavros knows Equius isn't _lying_ about the way he feels. Equius is solid and honest and blunt as a double-spiked mining implement; he has no idea why he thinks that a bow and arrow would be the best kind of weapon for him. Tavros could see him so much easier with some kind of hammer - or an axe - something that took brute strength, but still required a degree of finesse to master. Then again - he could dance verbally around the idea of what he _wanted_ like a very skilled fencer - like Pupa Pan sword-fighting with Captain Hook. Never quite where you expected him to be. Never quite dealing the blow that you expected to be dealt. Refused to admit what he wanted. It was often infuriating when he actually tried to hold his ground in a verbal argument. At the same time, he could be depressingly literal, and it really just. It makes him want to pull his own hair out, then Equius' for good measure. Maybe he's doing that right now, maybe he's going to turn all that silky black mass into straw and it'll just. Snap off in his hand. Or something.

Sometimes things could get to be a little dangerous and seriously how is Tavros meant to know he's gone too far if Equius never _says_ anything because he's just so _STRONG_ \- He yanks on the other's hair to hear him grunt. Because he can. "Just remember to say, uh, if anything hurts, Equius," he says, as sickly sweet as he can manage. It's a fair amount of sickly. It makes Equius snarl under his breath in a low and threatening rumble, so Tavros counts it as just saccharine enough.

They sit and let the bleach develop, not quite talking to each other while awkward silences drag on between them, and it takes a long time but Tavros is scrupulously careful about the timing. He's not going to have this turn out wrong, ok, this is going to be his best, greatest thing. Until the next thing, because there is going to be a next thing, how could there not be. He doesn't want this to get _stale_. He doesn't know what Equius is going to do to score points off him, in an attempt to regain some kind of lost ground, but he bets that it will be epic. 

At least he knows his prostheses are off limits; Equius would never lower himself to such easy ground, or enjoy subverting his mechanics like that. It's just everything else he needs to look out for. It's probably a good thing that he keeps most things low tech.

Tavros whistles tunelessly through his fangs, and finishes glopping on the last of the hair dye. Equius' hair has gone dead white under the bleach, and now he's covering it up with a deep mud. He hopes that it comes out true to the colour on the box; maybe he's been called shitblood but his blood has a hint of orange running through it, bronze. It's not just brown. The gloves cover his hands to the wrists, keeping it from setting colour into his skin, while he covers each long silky strand near lovingly with chemical smelling mess. Equius sneezes, and Tavros curses under his breath, just managing not to land a gloop of nastiness in the other troll's eye.

"Language," Equius grits out, and Tavros' lip curls, showing his larger, blunter lowblood teeth. Part of Equius' project with him, he's pretty sure, is to make him somehow less lowblood. As though it was going to change his actual colour in any way at fucking all. He didn't even swear that much! His lusus had never really approved of swearing either, but something about Equius just made him _want to swear all the time_.

"Fuck you."

"That is not an acceptable - ow, _Nitram_ , that was not part of the bet," Equius hisses between clenched fangs as Tavros wraps his fingers around his _broken_ horn. And tugs. He knows how it gets Equius going, makes him clench his teeth and a rush of unease ripple over his skin. He'd be stupid not to. They've been together for long enough. He also knows that it usually makes his bulge squirm half out of its sheath.

" _Whoops_ ," Tavros says cheerfully, sarcasm dancing over every letter. And then he pours extra gloop on Equius' hair, just for fun. "So, uh, the packet said we need to wait for twelve duodecides, and then we can wash it out. You can uh, wash it out. I don't need to touch it after this."

" _Good_ ," Equius bites out harshly like he wants to take a bite out of him as Tavros sets the timer on his phone. The blueblood obviously wants to sweep out of there, towel around his shoulders and chemical waste on his hair or not, but he is frozen to the chair in his ablutionblock. Ha. Tavros supposes that the last thing he wants to do is drip brown on his floor. Might not come out - unlike slurry or blood. Both of which are a little more easily wiped away. 

"So, uh, while we're waiting, I'm going to tell you about my new FLARPing campaign." Tavros sits half his ass on the lip of the sink counter and holds his hand out in front of him to study his claws. It's a move that he's picked up from Vriska, sadly enough, but he can see pitch spades dancing in Equius' eyes as he looks at him and the way he's so obviously posing his nonchalance. The blue of his blood is just starting to bleed into his iris; Tavros' eyes have been bronze for cycles. It's a pity that the rest of his growth hadn't been impeded as well, he just keeps getting taller and broader and, well. Stronger. 

"I would prefer that you did not."

"Too bad," Tavros says breezily, knowing that with that tone of voice, Equius' prefer you would not basically translates to fucking don't you dare. It's stupid, taunting the howlbeast like this, but c'mon. They're stuck in an ablutionblock, he needs to get his kicks somewhere. And he can get them so easily, just by describing how his character is doing in his FLARP campaign, and bringing up Vriska and Terezi. Oh, and Aradia. 

It's really ludicrous how Equius has this thing about the hemocaste, when the fact that he's had a flushcrush on Aradia since everybody was a wriggler and is never quite game enough to tell her about it, is one of the things that everyone knows about it and has since this party at Karkat's where Equius had pretty much tripped all over his own tongue when he saw her. If Tavros wanted to help him, he probably could. The thing he and Aradia have going on is kind of pale, maybe a little flush, he could probably put in a good word for his kismesis and she'd listen but really? He likes Aradia. Why would he inflict Equius and his beefgrub shit nonsense on her? Not that Aradia couldn't take care of herself - she can. But Equius is his special, particular pain in the ass. He knows he'll have to share at some point, but he doesn't want to yet. He wonders if Nepeta thinks like that sometimes.

Honestly, if anyone wanted to see fated moirails, they were a pair of fated moirails and it's far, _far_ more than Equius ever deserved and he has no idea what Nepeta could have possibly done to fall pale for this asshole who talks down to her. Dismisses her. Tries to coddle her. But. Whatever, they work. They're at quadrant corners, but it's not really his business. Besides, he can't think of any troll he's met who'd want to put with Equius' shit the way Nepeta does.

Once he's finished explaining his campaign and character development in excruciating detail to Equius who just looks more and more pained by the moment but can't actually do anything about it in case he gets brown hairdye all over his ablutionblock and isn't ill-bred enough to interrupt him (yet), Tavros finally lets him know that his timer has been up for ten minutes. The resulting seething look is something that pretty much goes straight to his bulge, but the way that Equius strips down in front of him does a much better job of it. That back.That ass. Those scars (even if mostly self-inflicted through bot accidents rather than actual combat). Seriously, someone should just put a frame around that and sell it as Alternian recruitment fodder for the Ruffianihilator corps, because damn. 

_The Empire wants YOU for the Ruffianihilator corps, lowblood!_

Cue grinning Empress, flashing in bright fuchsia outlines behind Equius lifting some bot or something else very heavy, all those muscles standing out in the lines of his back and the flex of his arms. A very compelling advertisement, he imagines.

Tavros taps his fingers thoughtfully against his knee, and breathes out. He can ambush Equius once he gets _out_ of the shower. There's only so much abuse his prosthetics can take, no matter how good Equius is at making them. And he is good. Very good. And actually willing to make them for a lowblood, when things like this were usually highblood manufacture only. Tavros still isn't entirely clear what Karkat SCREE'd at him to make him make them in the first place - they hadn't been in a quadrant then - but he's glad he did. That was several iterations ago. They're better now, but still not great for extended periods in water. He wonders what disabled seadwellers do - going in the water seemed pretty key to the whole idea of 'seadweller'. Salt water at that.

He has to clap his hands in front of his mouth when Equius finally gets out of the shower, palms together and eyes widening. Just like a wriggler seeing Pupa Pan cluckbeast crow for the first time, because this? This. Is. Amazing. _Amazing_. He blesses every small and large forgotten god of Alternian history, because the stripes in Equius' hair are exactly his blood colour. Exactly. It's uncanny. And the look, oh, the look he gets from Equius when the blueblood looks at him after he's looked at himself in the mirror - it's so pitch, it's a wonder every piece of glass in the whole room doesn't just break.

"You look great," Tavros says, insincerely, and he can hear Equius' teeth grind together. If he breaks one, Tavros is going to reward himself by buying that new Fiduspawn expander pack he's had his sight-orb on. He's pretty sure that Equius is about two inches of sanity away from snapping into a highblood rage. He doesn't think he's ever seen him this worked up before - and Tavros makes a point of working Equius up.

"Really. You think so."

Equius' voice is like stones thudding down into a shallow grave. Foreboding. Dry as a desert. Tavros just can't leave it alone, so he keeps going. After all, if he was worried about Equius' reactions to things, he wouldn't have dyed his hair shitblood-brown. Fuck. It's glorious, he's going to take so many photos and he's pretty sure that once Terezi or Vriska see them, they're going far and wide. Maybe he'll just threaten Equius with showing the girls he FLARPs with. The threat might work just as well as actually doing it.

"Yeah, the colour came out just, uh, _right_ , don't you think? A perfect match."

Tavros can feel his glee simmering, and it's not surprising - honestly - when Equius shoves him up against the mirror. Tavros hears the hinge of his knee scrape over the sink and he reaches out to grab Equius by his damp hair and _pull_ , yanking him in on the low feral undertone of the blueblood's growl to kiss him. Shift back to get more balance than wrap his legs around Equius, knowing exactly how the shifting plates would pinch him on the hips every time either of them moves. There are scars there. He likes to touch them, after. Equius is already naked (the towel he'd managed to wrap around his waist comes undone amazingly quickly) and Tavros' shorts aren't exactly the most sturdy of things. On purpose. 

Not that it would probably matter, because just for the sake of the idiots in the back, in case they missed it - Equius is one of the strongest trolls Tavros knows. He thinks that Feferi is probably stronger, but it might be by a narrow margin. And she's the fucking Heiress. Anyway, the shorts rip like fucking sniffnode-wiper material under Equius' fists, and he's bare. He's always been glad that his amputation only happened at the midpoint of his thighs, that he still has everything he needs between them because otherwise he would miss feeling the way Equius' smooth cool bulge snakes its way into his nook.

He grabs at the other's back and pulls him in, fingers digging into that slab of muscle at the base of his back. Grabs at his grubscar with his claws, bites him on the shoulder as he's filled with a surge of Equius' hips, as unstoppable and as certain as something. Well. Unstoppable. Something very large. Tavros groans into the rigid column of Equius' throat and bites him again, just because he fucking can.

They never last long, but he likes seeing the imprint of his flat, low-blooded teeth on Equius' skin.

A deep blue under his gray skin, a shifting shadow. _His_ mark.

The hair is better.

He really hopes it doesn't grow out quickly. He's pretty sure that Equius won't shave his head to get rid of the deep bronze streaks in his hair. Fuck, they're seriously just the right colour, they're exactly like his blood. It's like he sunk a brand onto Equius saying this is mine, my territory, fuck off. I've got dibs on this stretch of blueblood muscle, so fuck you. It's so fucking blatant, and he can't wait to listen to Equius stutter and try to explain why he sudden has _shitblood_ brown streaking his lovingly cared for mane. He sinks his fingers into it and feels Equius' sharper, still not quite as triangular or sharp as a seadweller's teeth, but sharper fangs than his, sink into his skin. Sharp and heady streaks of pain as Equius doesn't even bother to move, just lets his bulge squirm and writhe in his nook, making his eyes cross and making his need to bite him almost overwhelming.

He drags his claws from broad shoulder to well-toned ass, wanting to break the skin. He does, he can feel the slickness on his fingertips from the other's blood. His kismesis. Fuck, he hates him, he hates him so much. Hates his stupid hair, and the insufferable stilted way he talks, the way he looks offended if anyone lets slip the f-word around him, let alone anything worse. Hates the way he tries to control Nepeta, tries to control _him_ , make him change, as though being a lowblood is such a terrible thing to be. Tries to control Aradia, influence her - and they're not even in a quadrant. Such. A fucking. _Asshole_. 

"You look so much, better, hahh, with brown in your hair," he tells him, and it makes Equius snarl. Tavros shifts the grip of his knees, digging his claws into the base of the other troll's neck as he reaches down with his other hand to direct his questing bulge to the slick, cool nook waiting for it. Equius lets out a groan, and Tavros hisses between his fangs as his bulge is enveloped in cold. Bucks his hips a little, to hear Equius make a warbling sound, and then furious at himself, let out another snarl and settle into pailing Tavros over the sink very STRONGly indeed.

"You are so - petty, and immature," Equius tells him back in a deep hoarse voice that sends chills down Tavros' spine, from actual cartilaginous support column to the metal of his interfaces. This is one of the most uncomfortable places they've ever done this - the tap is digging into the small of his back, he's pretty sure he's chipped Equius' sink as his thighs rub over the porcelain. It hurts, it's terrible. Next time they do this, Equius is going to be the one on the bottom and Tavros is going to make sure it's just as painful for him as this is right now. But his bulge is still curling in the tight confines of Equius' nook as best as it can reach, while his is soooo full of blue bulge, the tip is curled against his shameglobes. Fuck. Fuccck. Feels good.

"I am going to - nn - I'm going to put so many pictures on Cruelbook, you're gonna - HAH! - never forget this, no one will ever _ever_ let you." Tavros drops his head to Equius' shoulder and grunts, feeling the other's bulge moving harder, faster inside his nook. He tries to do the same with his bulge, but Equius has the advantage of position. And as much as he hates to admit it, some advantage of size. 

Grabbing at his damp hair, he twists it in his fingers, pulling as Equius rumbles out growls, sounds that should, instinctively, make him cower. But all they make him is hot. He can feel how Equius is holding himself back, just that small amount of caution and as much as he'd like to make him lose it, he also enjoys being able to walk. So he's not going to push further while Equius' hands are on his thighs, gently squeezing at the plates of metal that make up his walking struts, thumbs pressing into the deadened flesh just above them. Not everything was fixable with neurogrubs. But enough was. And it burns, it aches that Equius is the one who was able to fix him, that even though he was so utterly contemptuous of everything that Tavros is, that he stands for - the fact that he'd still done it was almost the most insulting of all. The way in which he's sure that Equius finds his lack of proper grovelling gratitude and thankfulness fucking irritating is the only thing that makes Tavros feel better about the whole thing.

"Petty," Equius repeats into his ear in a low groan, and shifts to grab at his ass, pressing forward even more. He can feel the tip of the other's bulge tracing along his seedflap and Tavros lets out a rattling whine. Runs his claws along the stripes he's already carved into Equius' back, and opens them up again. His fingertips are stained with blue, that nobly coolish blood. He's pretty sure that every time he moves his hands on Equius' skin, he's leaving marks like a wriggler playing with paints. Good. It's a pity, almost, that it's not in his own colour but he guesses he's left his mark that way already. Ostentatiously, even. "And - nn - wrigglerish - just like your _obsession_ with fake things-"

"I'll make you wear a Tinkerbell costume, next, just see if I - ah! - don't," Tavros promises, and digs his heels in at the small of Equius' back as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm. Wouldn't Equius look cute in that short white dress though? It's definitely a thought worth considering for future bets. He reaches up, trailing blood through Equius' hair as he strokes the bronze streaks. His mark, his colour. And the stiff-necked, horse-bulge of a hemocastist was the one who was going to have to wear them until they grew out. Equius would hate to admit that Tavros had gotten to him so badly that he needed to go and have them dyed in, so he's looking forward to a cycle at least of enjoying the shit out of them. He's not entirely sure how fast Equius' hair is going to grow, but he hopes it's really really slowly. Having added in dye over the bleach, he hopes that helps it stick. "You'll - nnh - look _so sweet_ , ah fuck, Equius, right THERE!"

He grabs at Equius' hair and shoulders, leaning his head back and feeling his horn hit the mirror with a skull-aching shiver. At least the ablutionblock will be easy for Aurthour to clean up, he thinks muzzily, as blue slurry fills his nook and the mingled brown and blue streaks down into the sink. And if it causes an issue with Equius' plumbing? Not his problem. In fact, kind of hilarious, and he hopes that he has to explain exactly what is blocking the pipes in order to get it fixed. 

"Disgusting," Equius tells him after a few long moments where they just drag in breath after breath, and he clings to the blueblood as he's lifted off the sink. He doesn't trust the neurogrubs to properly guide the servos after an orgasm like that, while they're buzzing just like he is.

"You, uh, also resemble that remark," Tavros purrs because he feels too good to really argue while Equius carries him through the over the top, completely ridiculous and obscene halls of his blueblood level income mansion. Fucker. It's nice though, because it means that Equius has enough money to maintain a separate recuperacoon just for him. Like seriously, what was that shit? "Feel that tingling self-inflicted backdraft, Zahhak."

"Be quiet. Can you for one moment, simply let things be?"

"I suggest, um, that you can cuddle with your moirail, if what you want is for things to be easy." He feels more than hears Equius' huffing sighs of irritation and oh look, yes, sopor. Tavros lets himself slide into it, struggling out of his shirt to throw it in Equius' face. The weight of the sopor on the edges lets him hear it make a satisfying thwap! as it wraps around his head. He knows it does, because he opens his oculars just a crack to make sure it did as the other troll pulls it off himself, looking black spade-shaped daggers at him for his continuing insolence. By now, Equius should really be used to that. He supposes if Equius ever does get used to that, he'll know the pitch is fading out of their romance. "I'll, um, make my way hive in the evening."

"You shouldn't get used to this."

"Hey, I didn't tell you to buy a new recuperacoon that oh, just happens to fit me and my uh, bodacious horns," Tavros mumbles happily, sinking deeper into the fresh, clean sopor. Seriously. He hates the guy but Equius has some neat stuff. "That's all on you."

"Just as long as you leave expeditiously in the evening."

"Uh huh. Sure. Got it." He can already feel himself dropping off as the sopor chills him out, and he doesn't bother looking up as Equius leaves. And leaves the lights on, of course. Doesn't matter - Aurthour will come around and flick them off. It's a momentary distraction, with how zonked he's suddenly feeling. Busy night. 

He wonders if he could arrange for someone to tape people's reactions to the new blocks of colour in Equius' hair. They're so fucking ugly and obvious. It's the best he's ever managed to talk Equius into. The absolute best.

Maybe he'll think twice about mocking Tavros' hobbies as 'stupid' and 'absurdly simple'. Since Tavros had easily beaten him at them. The way he'd flinched when the Host Plush exploded had been somewhere on the scale of epic. He was going to remember that face for a long, long time. Cherish it, like the crocodilian had cherished Hook's grasper. 

If he gets Equius onto a FLARPing field, maybe the reaction will be even better then when Tavros whupped his ass at basic Fiduspawn.

Or maybe he should just tell him he cheated. Either one of those should work pretty well.


End file.
